In New Zealand we light fireworks on Guy Fawkes’ night. It is similiar to 4th of July except that 4th of July makes sense. Guy Fawkes was an unfortunate fellow with rather an elaborate moustache who tried to blow up the House Of Lords on November 6, 1605. He was not even the ringleader. He got caught literally guarding the explosives, sitting on a keg of gunpowder playing with matches no doubt, as it appears he was not a very bright fellow. He was Catholic the guys in power at the time were Protestants. The Protestants confiscated all the gunpowder and poor old Guy came to a rather sticky end. And for some obscure reason this date has been celebrated with bonfires, fireworks and the burning of straw guys on Guy Fawkes night all over Britain and then around the commonwealth ever since. In fact in one way or another people have lit bonfires or fireworks on this night for over 400 years.
Except for us. Because our mother did not approve of Guy Fawkes Night. Aside from the obvious safety factor, and the barbaric nature of the celebration, evidently we may as well set fire to a ten dollar note. Though I have to say that we saw no logic at all in her argument. How could setting fire to a 10 bob note be in any way entertaining. However one year we outsmarted our mother (or she allowed herself to be outsmarted more like) and we were allowed to have a fireworks night of our own the night AFTER Guy Fawkes night.
I will explain to you how this worked. As you know we lived on a beach. On The Night, the beach was crammed with people cooking out, bringing their picnics, family and friends, their terrified dogs and when it was dark, lighting their bonfires and their fireworks and having a grand old time. You will know that you cannot let off fireworks until it is dark and in the dark they LOST plenty of fireworks. So my older brother hit on the idea of getting up really really early (before the other beach kids), the next morning, going down to the beach and searching for the fireworks these careless people had lost. Then when it was dark that night, we would have our own fireworks displays. It was a fine plan. There were six of us so we were able to cover a fair amount of terrain before Mum got up. We filled bags with unlit fireworks, all kinds , rockets, tom thumbs, spinning wheels, and this year I struck gold, I found a big unopened box of sparklers. I loved sparklers.
The night came and after pleading with mum for roughly 6 hours we were allowed to go to the beach and carefully light our fireworks as long as we did not shoot rockets at each other, did not approach the fizzers and carried buckets of seawater about with us, just in case. We were to stay within sight of the house and look after the Littlies. The Littlies were the three youngest. That was fine, we all took one each. I got T.
T was a lovely little boy, he had piles of hair and the sweetest freckles and navy blue eyes as big as an animated cats. His eyelashes were so long that my sisters and I wondered how he was able to keep his eyes open they looked so heavy. He did not walk until he was almost 18 months old because I carried him everywhere and did not talk until he was three and his first words were ‘go away and leave me alone!’ Which we all found hilarious.
So I always had T, he was my little boy. He would have been about four years old this day, I think.
So my sisters and I we are larking down in the shallows. I had given T a sparkler all of his own and lit four for myself, and with two in each hand I was writing my name in the dark. Heaving my arms round and round writing for all I was worth before they went out. Then I saw a funny little fire in my peripheral vision. One of my sparklers had sparked into T’s hair and it had started a wee fire. Oops. I had set my brother on fire!
I dropped my sparklers hissing into the sea, rushed at him, caught him up and dumped him head first into the oncoming waves. It was a warm early summer night. OK. 
He floundered about for a bit while I peered into the dark, checking that he had gone out. And just as importantly I looked about to see that no-one had noticed me setting his hair on fire. Well, it was an accident! Then he stood up, dripping, this skinny little wet cat of a kid. We puddled back to the shore and he looked at me with this really quizzical look. Why did you do that, he said quietly. I paused, then sighed and decided to tell the truth. You were on fire, I said. Oh, he said as though this was a perfectly reasonable thing to hear. As though being set on fire by your big sister and then thrown into the sea by the same sister was a perfectly ordinary occurrence.
Can I have an other sparkler, he said and held up his dead dripping little fire stick . Mine has gone out.
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
66 responses to “the day i set my little brothers hair on fire for mw&g”
Love the imagery in your narrative!
Thank you Yummy. c
Im glad this was a happy ending story. 🙂
Easy to have happy endings when you are a kid.. life went on.. we remember the best bits!! etc .. lovely to see you c
When I was 10 or 11, my brothers and I got up really early on July 5, went to the park across the street, and found probably fifty firecrackers – which we were NOT allowed to have. We set them all off before going home. No fingers were lost.
Weren’t we a shifty bunch when we were kids.. and aren’t the best firecrackers the ones we found at that age! thank you, Jomegat.. c
Oh Celia, I absolutely LOVE your childhood stories, you paint such a magnificent picture!
You clearly had a knack of “innocently” getting yourself into trouble – you poor dear.
As always, beautiful photos!
Have a happy day.
🙂 Mandy
Thank you Mandy, and it was innocently too, living in a dream world as usual! c
At least nothing bad happened to him, I remember when I had a fireworks accident back in the Philippines when one of the roman candles (similar to flare which pops multiple times) popped out from below instead on the top, it was so painful.
Again great story
OW.. an incendiary with a bad attitude! that was nasty.. did you have a bucket of water on hand?.. c
oh, too cute! I love sparklers and can remember writing with them in the dark. I have 6 star shaped ones waiting for a grand occasion 🙂
Tandy, are you holding out on us?.. STAR shaped sparklers.. we want pictures!! c
Great story Cecilia! Love the pictures too.
Thank you Jelly Bean and yes the crops are turning that lovely golden hue that I love.. c
Fab story, most fireworks are banned in South Africa.
In NZ too, Cindy, there are very few now and they are only sold for a week a year just before Guy Fawkes.. unless this has changed since i have been away.. In Missouri (and other states) there are 24 hour firework WAREHOUSES! Super Stores open all year long.. my mind was boggled.. c
I love ’em – brave small boys, fireworks and good stories like this one.
Brave Small Boys and Fireworks, that sounds like the title of something big. I think you have story there too, Viv .. c
Great story & photos as usual, Cecilia, but what I’m really interested in is the term “Proddies”. As someone who studies & teaches the English Reformation, I’ve never heard that term. Is it a NZ thing?
Probably a street thing, I was brought up Catholic, and went to a NZ Catholic girls high school with plenty of girls with Irish or English parents, a fair number of them protestant.. but to be perfectly honest with you I have no idea where I consciously collected the term, pretty ‘street’ slang, I suppose, but also quite jolly. We were called the Micks or Mickey Dooleys.. I have never thought of it as derogatory. I would not like people to get the wrong impression. Thank you though I do appreciate your comments.. c
Wow, I just locked my brother in the garage…he got over it.
Eventually.
I love the ‘crop 4’ photo – it looks like the corn has feet. Or tentacles.
Thats what i thought too.. and the root colour is so red.. and today i discovered that the mad system I have for labelling my shots is shown on the blog too.. mm.. better be careful of that, i get in enough trouble as it is.. c
What a hilarious story with, thankfully, a happy ending. I loved that T wanted another sparkler after all he’d been through already.
I’ve just begun following your blog and find your word usage interesting, ie. “larking down into the shallows” and “puddled back to the shore.” Those phrases sound so poetic to this Minnesota girl, who grew up on the prairie, nowhere near a beach.
BTW, I love that first image of the field with the corn crib in the background. Where did you take that shot?
Morning Audrey, that shot of the crib in the beans is around the corner, i live right slap bang in the middle of an Ilinois corn field surrounded in flat fields growing corn and beans.. c
Have you ever considered being a stand up comedian!! You are amazing. This is way too funny!!! Your photos are stunning!
Thank you ambrosia, I did have a short career on the stage actually, well not too short, but a while ago now and if nothing else it was very entertaining!! c
So funny! Sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh but I have got tears rolling down my face. Gorgeous photos!
Regards Florence.
Oh Florence.. I love it when you laugh!! c